Picking Him Apart
by Return My Sanity
Summary: Sherlock and John attend Mycroft's Christmas party, and Mycroft manages to get on Sherlock's nerves as usual, by hazzling him about his feelings for a certain army doctor. This is all Johnlock, with bickering between the Holmes brothers. John is pretty much a BAMF in this story.


**Sherlock and Mycroft's conversation gets a little out of hand :)**

Sherlock had never liked parties. They were loud and boring and crowded with stupid people. No, not just stupid people, stupid people who thought they were smart. Watching the scene before him, he couldn't help but sneer. Everybody looked so pleased with themselves, smugness all over their faces. Then again, what would you expect at a party thrown by none other than Mycroft Holmes?

All of these people were just basking in their own perfection. Perfection, yeah right. Sherlock could see through it all in a few seconds. He could see the drama going on, the affairs, the talk about money. It was all about appearance. Half of these people weren't nearly as happy nor as wealthy as they might seem to someone who didn't use their eyes.

It was pointless and fake. And Sherlock hated every minute of it.

Then why had he come at all? The answer was the same as always; John Watson. People always wondered what John did that made Sherlock turn up for more social events than he'd ever done in his life. The man had put some spell on him, and now he'd do almost anything to make John happy. And that included going to Mycroft's horrid Christmas party.

Mycroft had actually laughed out loud when he saw John at the door, Sherlock in tow. The look on his brother's face told him that this was certainly the last place he wanted to be. Still, he had come. It was at that moment Mycroft realised just how whipped Sherlock was. Not to mention how in love with his flatmate he was. It was obvious that his appearance was because of the short man standing next to him.

Later that evening, Mycroft noticed his little brother standing by himself in a corner of the room, looking at the other guests with contempt. He made his way over to him.

"Now now, brother, why are you standing here all alone?"

"Bugger off, Mycroft!" Sherlock spat at him, venom in his voice.

"And you're being a civil as always, I can see."

"Don't you have some cake to gorge in?"

"But then again, you're only civil to _one_ person, aren't you?"

Sherlock stiffened, looking at Mycroft with wide eyes. He looked as though he was ready to protest, but seemed to change his mind. Instead he said in a loud, obnoxious voice:

"How's the diet, your diet of cake?"

"Where is the good doctor?"

"How many pieces did you eat? Nine?"

"Oh sorry. I mean, if you knew where he is, you wouldn't be standing here, miserable, with your poor attempts at insulting me."

"I know why none of the cakes had frosting, you ate it all off beforehand!"

"Seeing as you are alone, I can only assume that you haven't shared your feelings with him yet.."

"WHY DON'T YOU GO STUFF YOU FACE WITH YOUR PRECIOUS CAKE?"

"Why haven't you. Scared?"

"YOU'LL NEVER LOSE WEIGHT, YOU BIG CAKE LOVER!"

"Afraid of rejection?"

"MYCROFT'S DIET IS HISTORY, PEOPLE! DID YOU KNOW HE'S ON A DIET?!"

By now everyone had stopped whatever they were doing and they were all staring shamelessly at the two bickering brothers in the corner. Well, they were mainly staring at Sherlock, since he was the one they could hear.

"Why don't you just tell him, hm?"

"CAKE CAKE CAKE!"

"Well, maybe it's for the best, soon he'll find someone better anyways so..."

"JUST SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

At that moment Mycroft realised that he had won. Never before had he seen Sherlock so worked up. His cheeks were red, his breath heavy and his eyes had become glassy. Maybe he had taken it at bit too far, but getting the truth had been worth it. Sherlock's devestated expression said it all. He had just confirmed to his brother that he was in love with John. Mycroft was pleased with himself.

Nobody spoke a word. Sherlock and Mycroft stood frozen in the corner, as they noticed that all eyes were on them. Only silence filled the room. Nobody dared to move. Except one person. This person walked quietly up to Sherlock and put a gentle hand on his arm to stop him from shaking. And under John Watson's touch Sherlock was finally able to calm himself.

"Come on. Sherlock, lets go."

Sherlock looked at John, and there were so many emotions hidden behind his eyes. Mycroft had just brought up some of his deepest fears. The fear of John rejecting him, the fear of simply not being good enough for someone as wonderful as John. It was like a punch in the gut. Still a bit shaky, he simply obeyed John, and the two men started walking out of the room, until it seemed like John changed his mind.

"Sherlock, wait for me outside. I'll be out in five minutes and then we can leave."

Sherlock just nodded and left the room, even though Mycroft was fairly sure he'd be listening at the door. He knew his brother. And he was pretty sure that John knew as well.

Once the youngest Holmes was out of the door, John started walking back to Mycroft, a frown on his face,

"What the hell did you say to him?" he said angrily to Mycroft.

"Nothing of importance, I assure you. He's simply being a child, you know how he is, John..."

"Don't give me that shit! Sherlock's a little tough to handle at times, I know that, but he doesn't get this worked up over nothing. So I'm asking you again; what the hell did you say to him?"

"I simply cannot tell you, John." Mycroft said, the ever-present smirk plastered on his face.

"Like hell you can't!"

"That is my final word on the matter."

"Yeah? Here are my final words! If you ever do that to him again, make him look so sad and vulnerable, you'll have me to answer to, is that clear?"

"You're being preposterous John..."

"Is that clear? He is my bo- um.. best friend, and I won't stand around and watch you walk all over him simply because you think it's funny to pick him apart!"

"Crystal clear."

"Very well then. Have a good evening."

And with those final words, John Watson stomped out of the room, slamming the door in his wake. Mycroft just stood there. And for once in his life he was completely dumbfounded. He had never known just how intimidating John could be if he wanted to. He was shocked to say the least. Still, he couldn't help but smile as he realised that at least Sherlock's feelings weren't unrequited.

**I hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading!**


End file.
